Destiny: Winter's Call
by Red Stryker
Summary: They thought the war was over. They thought that they could finally put the guns away, and start a new beginning. They were wrong. And when the winter comes, Styx realizes that he can't fight this war on his own. He needs backup. And to get it, he'll need to discover an interplanetary conspiracy just possibly bigger than the war itself.
1. Cold Sweats

_**Prolouge**_

_The winter... freezing, murderous cold. It's biting at my body, sending shivers down my spine. It's getting worse. Before, it was admittedly bad, but not as bitter. Bitter, icy cold was what it was. Freezing everything... freezing all.._

I wake up, gasping and screaming. Clutching at my face, I sit up, bewildered. _It happened again. Another one of those nightmares. _Just then I notice my hand cannon in my right hand.

I've had these strange dreams ever since my last ordeal with the Vex, shutting down a major communication access point and taking down an Axis. I was badly wounded, a hidden Hobgoblin directly hitting me with a shot of his Line Rifle. Luckily, the effects of Radiance hadn't totally given way when it happened.

Now, I thought I'd healed. Maybe physically, but _definitely_ not psychologically. Now, I wake up clutching my gun in a cold sweat. _I need some fresh air. _Pulling myself out of bed, I slip on some basic clothing: a red hoodie, and some old but comfortable jeans.

Walking out into the coolness of the Tower was _immensely_ refreshing. Taking a deep breath, I take in the sight of the Traveler, our guardian angel, suspended in space and time, watching over us silently. The priests had taken to worshipping it as a god. I never thought of it as a god, yet it still imbued me with its Light.

Yes, the name Styx, my name, was familiar throughout the Tower. The weird Awoken kid with Light, yet he didn't worship the Traveler. Was I supposed to? Now, don't get me wrong, I _do, _contrary to popular belief, have a strong sense of morality. Worshipping a giant floating sphere never seemed appealing, though.

Looking at my hands, I hold them in front of the Traveler. Oddly enough, blue flame erupts from both. I wasn't scared; I knew the fire couldn't hurt me. The fire had a strange form to it, like a human face. No, an Awoken face. _My _face. Then, a cold snow came and extinguished the flames.

My heart sank. The Traveler was supposed to be an oracle. Was this my future? The flame of my life extinguished by snow?

_The next morning..._

Getting out of my bunk, I slip my hand cannon into its holster. I feel more safe with it there. Just to be sure, I load it with three bullets. I don't cock it, but instead place it in the holster uncocked and head to the lounge.

I rub at the mark my Bond made against my skin. I always thought that wearing a good bond was an honour, but now, the novelty's faded. I pass Amanda, the Shipwright, and quickly check on my jump ship before heading to where Agent of the Nine was.

That's what we all formally called him. His real name was apparently Xûr, but I figured it was an alias. With a past so mysterious that even the Speaker couldn't decipher, the Agent of the Nine sat silently in a dark corner of the hangar.

This is where I eat my breakfast daily. Usually it's some stale bread and coffee, but today, in celebration of the killing of Phogoth the Untamed, it's roasted ham and bagels. I've never tried ham before, and I question where they brought it from. I thought that pigs went extinct during the Collapse.

Every Delta student sits talking or studying. The Titans are in large groups blabbing about football, and the Hunters are playing the knife game. The Warlocks aren't talking, but studying. A transmission in the form of a hologram forms in the center of the room.

Instantly, everyone quiets down. Everyone knew that if a hologram commenced, a mission was sent to the Guardians. Now, even in the state of despair the Tower was in, the missions were completely optional.

And now, even the bravest Titans and the most confident hunters refused the mission. Ikora Rey, the Warlock commander, had a firm, but urgent, tone in her voice. "Guardians, pay attention to this transmission. It's probably the most important one you'll ever get."

A cold silence swept throughout the room. "Now, I know that you think you've won the fight, destroying the Black Garden's heart and such. yes, it may seem relieving, _satisfying_, even. Knowing you struck the enemy at its core, and tore its heart from the sky. We hate to break the news, but we found _this _ (she holds up a Vex head) laying on campus. Now, this is a sign, fellow Guardians, that we need to step it up a notch in our defences, or the darkness will consume us entirely. Come see the Vanguard for further information. Ikora out."

And with that, the transmission clicked off, leaving everyone in a daze. I knew what was circulating through our minds. _How could a Vex reach the Tower? The Traveler is losing Light that quickly? What should we do? _

I knew what i needed to do. Pulling my cloak over my head, I made my way downstairs to the Vanguards for the mission.

* * *

><p>The Fallen Vandal made its way down the hallway to the Ketch. Well, it was being dragged to the ketch. This is what happened when the low-class met the wrath of the captains. With Reavers on either side, they roughly shoved him onto a platform of the ketch, just beyond the Kell's polished boots.<p>

All four of the Vandals' arms were tied up behind its back. The Kell's arc sabers hummed right next to the Vandals' ear. A stadium packed with Dregs, the lowest class of Fallen, shouted and booed and cheered all at the same time. The Vandal was arrested for abandoning post, getting his whole group killed. A guardian wounded the captain, but the Vandal saved him. Unfortunately, it was too late. The damage had been done.

And now, the punishment ritual began. The ritual where the Vandals' lower arms would be removed, making him an eternal disgrace. A vandal getting its arms removed was like a brand, forever dooming it to be a low-class Dreg, fighting tooth-and-nail daily just for enough food and basic needs.

Not only was this ritual excruciatingly painful, it was also undeniably humiliating. All Fallen feared the ritual, and most would prefer death instead.

The Kell's foot cracked against the Vandals' face, sending it sprawling to one side. The vandal lie there in the dust for a moment, trying in vain to regain its blurry and dust-filled vision. Another kick, this time to the abdomen. The vandal curled up into fetal position, attempting to stop any other attacks.

The kell's huge foot rolled the vandal back over to face the sky. The Kell peered over at the Vandal, and for a second, their eyes met. The Vandal almost thought he saw a flicker of cruel pleasure in doing this to him, humiliating and beating him in front of a crowd like this.

The kell reached out to him, saber in hand. For a second, the Vandal thought it was all over. But instead of killing it, the Kell grabbed the Vandal's face and threw it against the wall, so that the Vandal was pressing its face against the wall. A huge cheer broke out from the crowd.

Funny to think these were his comrades a few short days ago. That shows how deceptive Dregs can be. The Kell finally grabbed the Vandals' lower right arm. He held the sword up high to the crowd, and they erupted into chanting.

The vandal braced himself, knowing this was going to be painful. The arc blade cut right through his bones and muscle. The vandal screamed in pain, crawling somewhere, anywhere, to spare this torture. Meanwhile, the Kell held up the arm to the crowd, with a fresh bellow of cheers erupting throughout.

The guards noticed it trying to crawl away, and they stomped on the Vandals' outstretched hand, grinding it into the ground. The audience burst into laughter, drowning out the Vandals' screams of agony. Finally, the kell spotted it, and dragged the Vandal back into the arena.

The Kell sliced through his other arm, slower this time, deliberately making the arc blade burn the Vandals' flesh. The saber cut through, and soon enough, the Kell had two of the Vandals' arms to wave at the crowd.

The kell sheathed his swords and spit into the Vandals' face, backhanding it into the ground. The guards picked it back up, and dragged it back to the cell it belonged. The Vandal swore revenge. If only the vandal could get a guardian to aid it, maybe it could get revenge...

Its thoughts were interrupted by the guards throwing it to the cold floor. They locked the door firmly, and the Vandal could hear the marching all the way down the halls. The Vandal lay on the floor, screaming at the top of its lungs, crying out for help, for mercy.

* * *

><p>Pulling my jump ship out of the atmosphere, I set my coordinates to the Steppes in Old Russia, earth. I have been tasked with investigating a massive Fallen Colony in hopes of locating the nuclear weapon they scavenged. Those stoic Fallen can get their hands on <em>anything <em>, if they set their minds to it.

Shooting into Earth's atmosphere, i steady the ship's thrusters to make sure it can adapt to the change in gravity. I land her in a quiet little alcove just outside of the Steppes. Slipping on my helmet, turn on my visor and sync to Ikora's headset.

Once she's in sync, she informs me of where to go. It sounds more like a suicide mission than anything... but it's an _extremely _important mission. Somebody's gotta do it.

In the middle of my briefing, my Ghost lightly taps my shoulder. "Hold on, Ghost." Ghost taps harder, and more frantically. Exasperated, I whip around to face him. "What is it?" Ghost sighed. "Fallen ambush."


	2. The Mission

**Hey guys! Just to clear a thing or two up, you have to know a lot about Destiny in order to understand this fanfic ;; sorry. Also, I may *tweak* the canon of the story a bit in the later chapters just to fit my view of the story. Hey, it's FanFiction! Peeps can do things like that, y'know? Anyways, enjoy the story and review!**

* * *

><p>The Vandal picks itself up from the ground, using its feet. Pushing itself onto the wall, it shifted to a new position on the wall and screamed in pain when its arm stumps come in contact with the wall.<p>

The vandal looked at the ground, noticing no pools of blood. Of course, the Kell's sabers would have cauterized the wounds. Lightly touching its face, the vandal noticed that its face was battered. A vandal could only take so much abuse. Same with a Guardian, Vex, Hive, or Cabal.

The guards unbolted the triple-locked door, sliding in some basic food and water. Before they left, one handed the vandal a shock dagger and pistol. They threw him onto his stomach. Looking up, it noticed one of the guards had an iron-hot brand ready for it, embedded with the Dreg tattoo, dooming him to be a low-class.

As much as the Vandal struggled, it was in vain. The guards called in backup to hold it down. The brand hovered over its right shoulder, the blistering heat almost burning its arm from there. Finally, the guards shoved the brand onto his arm, holding it there, letting the red-hot metal sink in.

The Vandal was now officially a Dreg. It had learned to silence its cries of pain; it knew that it was a sign of weakness. The guards threw the water from the Dregs drink bowl onto the brand, and almost forgetting the Dregs burning arm, they threw ice-cold water over it, too.

The Dreg had never known more relief in its life. Although the arm still hurt, the burning was gone and wouldn't take long to heal. The guards stood up and did a 180 degree turn before heading straight out the Dregs door, being careful to slam it shut and triple-bolt it.

The Dreg knew what would happen it if stayed in prison. It would get sent to a labour camp to be worked and beaten to death. Or, as an alternative, it would become a scavenger for parts, searching for parts until it perished in the heat of battle.

The Dreg remembered the old luxuries of life and being a Vandal. The thrill of adventure, and the exhilaration of combat. A particular memory stuck out from the rest for the Dreg, however. The most glorious, honourable day of its life.

It was on a fateful mission on the Moon. Its team was tasked with the retrieval of Golden-age technology from an archive. The team had gained a bad reputation from their last mission, where they didn't catch the escaping Guardians in time, stealing valuable Hive loot. As a consequence, an Archon priest had been sent along with the team to supervise them.

The mission already had a rocky start with the Ketch dropping them into a crater. Then the Hive attacked them, luckily it was just a few Acolytes. The team located the cave, and had spotted the golden-age technology being looked over by Guardians.

So the Fallen team lashed out at the Guardians, crippling them. The archon had shielded the team from heavy fire, getting critically wounded in the process. The vandal knew that if the Archon was killed, the team would be exiled. It did the unthinkable, running in front of enemy fire.

The Vandal killed about 2/3 of the Guardians before it was shot through the shoulder with a sniper. Lukcily, Fallen heal fast. It only took the Vandal a few days after the mission to fully heal.

Suddenly, a giant explosion threw the Dreg flying to the ground. AN attack! The Dreg remembered how the kell had beaten it, abusing it with cruel pleasure in those eyes. This was the perfect diversion to fight the Kell!

The Dreg looked over to its new weapons. The guards shouldn't have trusted him with the gun.

* * *

><p>"I've located the hideout, Ikora." I say into my headset as another vandal falls to the ground. "Good. Locate to nuke and send me your coordinates. Ikora out." I slide under some debris as a line rifle blast erupts behind me. <em>There's too many fallen. <em>

Two captains flank me. I shoot at one in the chest, but its energy shield takes the brunt of it. Throwing an axion bolt, I roll out of the way. I hear an explosion as the axion bolt hits a captain.

The other captain attempts to flee. Pulling out my sniper, I say under my breath, "Nice try," as the bullet goes through its head, sending its wretched soul down to Hell or wherever Fallen souls go.

I notice an abandoned bridge above me, humming with Fallen. One heavily-armoured one drops from the bridge. It almost falls on me; luckily though, my reflexes are quick enough to dodge it. It brandishes two knives, and wears a cloaking device. A stealth vandal. I hate these ones.

It charges at me, leaving little room for a counter. The tip of its swords slice slightly through my upper right arm. I scream in pain, and it takes that as an opprtunity to viciously slam its foot into my stomach, sending me into an old bus.

it turns invisible, and I hear it sheath its swords. Cautiously looking around, I hear a footstep. I shoot crazily that way, unloading on thin air. I curse myself for being so stupid._ This is what it wants_, I thought. _To toy with me_. A hard punch slams across my face, followed by a knee to the groin.

I grow dizzy from the pain. Another punch knocks me back into the bus. Its other fist slams into my stomach. I slide to the ground in pain. _Why did I sign up for this_? I place my gun on the ground. Things just got serious.

Getting up, I notice a mismatched space in the air, which is where I send a roundhouse kick. It catches the vandal in the jaw. Its cloaking stutters for a second, allowing me to right hook it across the face. It spits out blue blood on the ground.

The Vandal sprints at me, obviously going for a full-out tackle. I sidestep him and grab his arm, using his momentum to smash his face into the concrete. _He's finished_. Picking up my guns, I decide to let him live, as much as my conscience is telling me to kill it.

I've already wasted enough time. Taking a vantage point on a high ledge, I spot the Fallen Kell studying the bomb. Sending the coördinates to Ikora, I leap off the ledge. Time to crash this party.

* * *

><p>The Dreg pointed the shock pistol at one guard through the bars of the cell, and fired multiple times. The other guard pulled out a machine gun and shot through the bars at the Dreg, but the Dreg took cover behind the wall next to the bars. Usually, the thick metal walls were meant for prisoners like it, so The Dreg smiled when it used this to its advantage.<p>

The Dreg waited until the guard ran of out ammunition, then rolled in front of the bars. _*click* *click*_ Almost ironically, the Dreg's pistol was empty, too. The Dreg just shrugged and threw it's shock dagger into the guards hand.

Grabbing the key from the dead guard on the outside of the bars, the Dreg unlocked its cell door. Turning over the dead guard, the Dreg tore off the vandal's cape and fashioned it into a sort of respirator that covered all the way up to its nose.

The Dreg took its knife back from the guard's arm and took a line rifle from the other dead guard. It partly wanted the minigun, but ammunition for it was nowhere to be found. As the Dreg approached the fight, it picked up more and more knives from (Fallen) Fallen.

It made a reasonable point in its mind: If there's bloodshed, it's a Guardian._ If I'm to be accepted by the Guardian, I must look and act like one._ So, with that, the newly equipped Dreg made its way to the battle.

* * *

><p>The kell is much harder to beat than I anticipated. another blast from the kell sends me flying. Luckily, my armour absorbed most of it. I can't take much more of this, though. The kell blasted another shrapnel shot at my face.<p>

Just as the shrapnel flew towards my face, bright yellow light bursted from my hands as Light enveloped my body, shielding me from the shrapnel. Pulling out my heavy machine gun, I aimed it right at the kell's head. I pull the trigger, holding it down in spite of the recoil.

The slugs smash into its face one after one, knocking it back into the nuclear bomb. The machine gun clicks. _It's empty_. The bloody thing still gets up after the punishment, stalking towards me. _I'm running out of time_.

A quick idea pops up into my head. It may jeprodise Ghost, but it's for the greater good of the mission. I call for Ghost. "What could you possibly wa-" I snatched him from the air, and threw him full-force baseball pitch style over the Kell's head to the nuke. Luckily, the Kell didn't even notice Ghost. But i don't even have time to sigh with relief.

The Kell's guard seemingly appear out of nowhere and are closing in. And it looks like they're serious.

* * *

><p>The dreg finally made it to the open area where the breach was taking place. Pieces of debris were falling everywhere; and it could see a guardian attempting to fight off the kell's guard.<p>

The dreg knew that the weak guardian would never be able to do it. If this guardian was killed, though, his chances of escaping would be thrown out the window. So, the dreg rushed over to aid the now-unconscious Guardian.

The kell's guard stood up and cracked their knuckles, apparently finished with the Guardian. The Kell pointed its shrapnel launcher at the downed Guardian. The dreg knew what it had to do.

Time to make its move.


End file.
